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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24362932">Break the Spell</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitboozy/pseuds/bitboozy'>bitboozy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Broadchurch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, First Kiss, Post-Series, Requests, one shots</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:20:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>964</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24362932</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitboozy/pseuds/bitboozy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A lost bet forces Hardy to go for 99s with Ellie.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alec Hardy &amp; Ellie Miller, Alec Hardy/Ellie Miller</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>173</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Break the Spell</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For my dear @autumnsonata, who requested "Tremble" from this <a href="https://bitboozy.tumblr.com/post/619036393765847040/verb-prompts">list of Fic Requests</a>.<br/>Feel free to pop on over and make your own request!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hardy has lost a bet.</p><p>It’s his own fault. He should know better than to engage in these sorts of pointless shenanigans. Especially with <em>Miller</em>. He has no one to blame but himself and that’s somehow the worst part.</p><p>If <em>he</em> had won, her punishment (…punishment? Is that what they call it?) was to be salads for a week.</p><p>But she won. And his punishment is that he go out for 99s with her. A week of salads versus one single ice cream cone. She must truly have been <em>certain</em> she’d win.</p><p>It’s late when they finally have a chance to pack it in and leave the station. The sun has already started to set as she drags him in the direction of the pier.</p><p>They sit on their bench with their cones, both of them staring off absently as they lick away at them. Now and then, he glances over at her, then quickly averts his eyes again whenever she twitches, afraid she’ll catch him.</p><p>When she gets down to the cone itself, she lets out an involuntary moan of pure pleasure. He feels it in his <em>spine</em> and straightens with alarm.</p><p>“Best part,” she notes with a smirk, seemingly aware of the tingle she’s caused in him.</p><p>In his distraction, his ice cream has started dripping down his cone and then, his hand.</p><p>“Bollocks.” He wipes his hand with a napkin, juggling his cone.</p><p>She’s actively trying not to look at him, so great is her smirk. But she’s not subtle. He knows. And he won’t give her the satisfaction of looking back at her.</p><p>Ellie has finished her entire cone in the time he spends cleaning his hands. It’s a vicious cycle – the more he tries to wipe it up, the more it melts, on and on and on.</p><p>Suddenly the laughter in her builds to a breaking point and bursts out of her. In a fit of snickering, she jumps off and runs off to the ice cream stand for more napkins. He gets up and tosses what’s left of his cone in a nearby bin and sits back down, holding his sticky hands out. She shoves the napkins at him when she returns, still laughing, and he wrings his hands with them.</p><p>“God, I <em>knew</em> you couldn’t eat ice cream like a normal bloody person, I <em>knew </em>it.”</p><p>“Your fault,” he grumbles.</p><p>“How is it my fault?!” She exclaims, again between fits of laughter.</p><p>Hardy pouts in her general direction. “Noisy.”</p><p>This only serves to make her laugh harder.</p><p>Accepting that this is as clean as his hands are going to get, he gets up and bins the crumpled up napkins then sits down again. He looks at her with his signature frown.</p><p>“Oh.” She starts to laugh again, then bites her lip. “Hands aren’t the only bit need cleaning.”</p><p>He frowns harder.</p><p>Tentatively, her hand reaches out to him, fingers lightly grazing over his beard.</p><p>His lips part slightly, eyes wide, and for a moment he forgets entirely why she’s touched him there.</p><p>“Ah.” His hand goes to his other cheek, noting the residual stickiness there.</p><p>Her hand hasn’t moved. Her fingers are trembling. The expression on her face has changed totally, cheeks blushing a pale pink.</p><p>He’s not sure what to do. She hasn’t moved and he’s afraid to, lest he break the spell.</p><p>Experimentally, she places her other hand gently on his thigh. His eyes meet hers.</p><p>Hardy thanks christ it’s the off-season and there’s hardly anyone around. The last thing he wants is for the spell to be broken for something as absurd as <em>other people</em>. God, he hates them all.</p><p>Her hand travels from his cheek upwards to his hair, brushing it back.</p><p>It’s an outrageously intimate gesture, one he would have expected might cause his entire body to seize up. But instead it relaxes. He inches closer to her. She seems to take this as encouragement. A tiny smile appears on her face as her hand begins to drift downward again, her fingers tracing his brow, then his cheekbone. He is suddenly seized by the urge to plunge her sweet, sticky fingers into his mouth. A distinct heat grows in his belly.</p><p>Her fingers press into his thigh. He leans into her with a low groan. He is at last moved to raise his own hand to her hair, tentatively sifting his fingers through it.</p><p>“Hardy,” she says quietly. It feels like request.</p><p>He captures her lips with his, unable to restrain himself by going any slower. She gasps into his mouth then reciprocates with double the fervor. He cups the back of her skull as he leans further into her, his thumb stroking her cheek. She opens her eyes when their lips part just slightly and, when he opens his, she’s smiling. So he kisses her again.</p><p>She grabs onto his tie with one hand, attempting to pull him impossibly closer, then the hand on his thigh begins to slide upward. He shifts suddenly.</p><p>“Mm, Miller.” He breaks away.</p><p>“Ellie,” she breathes out, going for his lips again.</p><p>But he jerks back. His hand covers the one high up on his thigh. She looks down.</p><p>“<em>Oh</em>.” She removes it apologetically. “Sorry.”</p><p>She places both hands in her lap daintily and faces forward. He watches her catch her breath as he struggles to find his own. Then he reaches for her hand and tangles their fingers together. Her hand is shaking, but his firm hold stills it.</p><p>“<em>I’m </em>not,” he says finally.</p><p>“Not what?” She turns to look at him with questioning eyes.</p><p>“Sorry.”</p><p>Her lips slowly curve into a smile. “Does that mean you might go for 99s with me again sometime?”</p><p>He fixes her with a warning glare. “Don’t push it.”</p><p>***</p>
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